


The Thing About Space

by avienexjel



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Feels, Everyone Hates Obadiah Stane, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Obadiah Stane is EVIL, Obadiah Stane is a Dick, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, or well everyone is in high school but they're all homeschooled
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:53:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9861200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avienexjel/pseuds/avienexjel
Summary: (JUST WARNING YOU ALL: I am completely unfamiliar with how adopting a kid works, so some of the first chapter is just me BS-ing my way through everything via imagination.)Tony Stark's parents have just died, and nobody wants to take him in.  So, of course, Nick Fury refers the unruly teen to Coulson, who's already adopted five other children in the past five years.  They get off on a bad foot, and everyone seems to think Tony's just the rich kid whose first time experiencing trauma was his parents' car crash.But Tony has a lot of a secrets, he just stuffs them deep so nobody will know how broken he truly is inside.  The only problem is that with a household full of other teenagers that hate him, and a new father that ISN'T his father, all he wants to do is cry where nobody can see him.  And...he's just spiraling down, doesn't really know what to do anymore.





	1. nowhere to go but down

 

 

_the funny thing about space is that once you think you've hit rock bottom, you realize there are a million more miles of darkness beneath you that you can't see into until you've explored it yourself._

 

oNE

Phil really, really hated how Fury was so convincing.  You would think that a scary looking man with an eyepatch wouldn’t be able to have such a conniving skill, but as it had been proved to him several times now, this was completely incorrect.  So, somehow, on a warm Friday afternoon, Phil found himself driving home with a sullen teenager in the passenger seat.

Well, not just any sullen teenager.  A filthy rich and kinda famous one, quite unlike the typical adoption cases.  You would think that Stark would’ve had someone to take him in after his parents’ car crash two weeks ago, but apparently for all the “friends” the family had, nobody really wanted to take care of the so-called “spoiled brat.”  Fury, who’d been tasked with Tony’s case, had _somehow_ managed to convince Phil to adopt the boy.  It’d been a hell of a week, with tons of paperwork, and Phil hadn’t even met Tony until he came to pick him up.  

Phil was now stuck with all the responsibilities that came with someone people said had behavioral issues.  Certainly he wouldn’t be able to live up to all of the servants that the teen had probably had in his old home.

Phil shifted his hand position on the wheel.  He had to give Stark a break, though.  The boy was probably still traumatized by the sudden death of his parents.  Phil glanced over at the uncharacteristically silent lump next to him, and felt a pang of pity.

Finally, the slightly banged-up car pulled into the driveway.  Phil lived out farther, past the city, in a quiet but large house in which the land looked like the countryside.  Thank God Phil had decided when he got the house that he wanted somewhere more peaceful, because Natasha, Clint, and the rest of them seemed to like being homeschooled in the peace and quiet.  It had done a lot of good for the kids, as loud noises weren’t the best for them.

As for the rest of his kids…

“We’re here,” Phil said, and Tony shifted up.  The older man couldn’t really tell if the teen even heard, as his earbuds were in and sunglasses covered his eyes.  “It’s around four pm, so the rest of the kids will probably be inside.”

Tony finally pulled his earbuds out.  “They’re around my age, right?” he muttered.  “Are any of them actually yours?”

Phil hesitated.  “Well, I adopted all of them,” he said finally.  “But I love all of them.”

Tony snorted.  “Okay, sure.”  The teen slid out smoothly and closed the door, collecting his small luggage from the trunk.  Phil had been surprised when he picked Tony up from the agency that he had had so little with him.  You would’ve thought that such a coddled child would have a lot to bring.  But then, Phil knew that everyone came from different situations.  If Tony didn’t want a lot from his old life, so be it.

They reached the door and Phil slipped out his keys to unlock it.  They made their ways inside, Tony slouched over and sunglasses still on, to see the rest of Phil’s family sprawled in the living room.

There was Natasha, then Clint, Steve, Bruce, and Thor…  Natasha had been Phil’s first foster child, and later on, adoptee.  He’d taken the slender Russian girl in five years ago, when she was ten and twitchy and couldn’t really speak English very well.  Natasha had come from a rough situation; her parents had died when she was two, and a military man had found her and given her a place to live.  He had taught her how to use weapons and taken her to illegal fighting rings, so by the time Phil had gotten her, she was a wily and vicious little thing.  Fortunately, though, all of his children had eventually warmed up to him and even loved him back.

Clint was the toughest of all of them.  Growing up with a traveling circus group and a brother in jail, the boy had come to Phil four years ago spitting and snarling.  The group he traveled with dealt out drugs, took them, and were violent people.  The only reason why Phil hadn’t been afraid of the small eleven year old when he got him was because Phil had seen it all.  He himself had grown up in a nice, middle-class home that was more often empty than not, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand.

Thor came a few months later, just after Clint (and thank God that boy had instantly bonded with Natasha).  He had been in a car crash himself, except he was the only survivor.  His father, mother, and brother had all died, and he’d been trapped in the car for two days staring at blood and metal and cracked glass.  Phil had shuddered when he heard the story.

Steve was next; his mother had succumbed to cancer two years ago, but overall Steve had had a pleasant life if you could ignore his hunger pains from often having to go without food.  Luckily, with Phil’s guidance, Steve had grown from being sickly and stick-thin to muscular and rather handsome.

Bruce had been the most recent, having only been with Phil and the rest of his children for a year.  Bruce had come from a violent home stinking of alcohol, and had watched his mother die by his father’s hands right in front of him.  For the next three years, he’d been shuffled from foster home to foster home.  It was...it was rough, as many of the foster parents were impatient with the boy’s silence, despite the fact that most of them were decent people (and that was hard to find).  Phil still had a tough time getting the quiet teen to talk, even though he definitely was much less twitchy than when he had first arrived.  Phil had only filed adoption papers last month, and Bruce had smiled and then hugged him, quite possibly for the first time ever.  

“So you’re the rich boy,” Clint spoke finally, eyeing Tony with distrust.

Tony sneered, flipping up his sunglasses.  “I could buy this entire ugly house and not even blink if I wanted.”

Clint tensed, fingers fluttering.  “Don’t call my home ugly.”

Tony shrugged.  “Then don’t attack me first.”

“Both of you, calm down,” Phil interrupted sternly.  “Each of you introduce to yourselves to Tony.  Tony, these are all of my kids.”

Tony lifted his chin, seemingly unimpressed as each person said their name.  The only two who didn’t look hostile were the curly-haired teen with the glasses, and the muscular blonde one with hair tied in a ponytail.

“Why do I even need to learn their names?” the boy said stiffly, turning to Phil.  He crossed his arms.  “I’m going to be gone within a week anyway.”  
“Good riddance,” Clint muttered, but Phil just eyeballed the archery-loving teen and Clint turned away.  “What makes you think you’re going to be gone?” Phil said patiently.

Tony snorted.  “Haven’t you heard?  No one can handle me.  I’m _wild.”_ He emphasized the last part with a bitterly sarcastic tone.  “What makes _you_ think you can handle me?  I know your type.  You’ll be giving me up to some poor little orphanage soon.”

“Don’t insult Phil like that!” Clint snapped, breathing hard.  “He’s much better than _you.”_

Tony smirked.  “Watch, he doesn’t even care about you.  They just pretend to like you, but they really don’t.  Look at you.  You don’t _actually_ think that this guy cares, do you?  You’re just the shit they picked off the streets, like me--excluding the fact that I’m the shit they picked out of the billion dollar mansion.”

With an angry shout, Clint threw himself at Tony.  The other teen just managed to jump out of the way so that he didn’t land as hard when Clint’s body made contact.  

Phil groaned, ignoring the stares and raised eyebrows coming from the rest of the kids.  With one mighty pull, he dragged Clint off of Tony before the guy threw a punch.  “C’mon, what did we talk about?” he said sternly.  “Tony can say what he wants.  I’m not offended.  But remember what we talked about.”

Clint dipped his head.  “Yeah, I know,” he said hoarsely.  “‘M sorry, Phil.”  All the previous rage had faded from his eyes.  

“It’s alright, Clint.”  Phil ruffled the teen’s hair before turning to Tony, who was still on his back on the floor.  “Now, when I take you into my house, you have to respect _all_ of the inhabitants.  Even though Clint provoked you, and I apologize for that, you can’t go around saying things like that.  I’ll be discussing this with Clint later as well.”

Tony’s eyes turned into slits.  “Fuck all of you,” he hissed.  “Fuck all of you.”  He pushed himself off the floor and exited the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

Phil blew out a big breath and turned to the other teenagers.  “Clint, you’ve never done that before,” he said.  “Come on.  You know his parents just died.  I’m disappointed in you.”

Clint trembled.  “He just came in here, all snooty, and I...I don’t know.  I haven’t exploded in a long time.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Phil said, softer this time.  “But _you_ need to respect Tony as well.  Alright?”

Clint nodded slowly.

“Now, I need to go chase our new addition down, so just...sit tight.  Go turn the stove on, we’re going to need some food after all of this.”  Phil sighed.  “I know it’s hard, and Tony’s life may have been a lot easier than yours.  But you all need to keep your heads up, okay?  He’s just struggling.  Remember when you all came here?  You were even worse than Tony.”  He smiled a little.  “Tony’s probably just really confused.  So give him a chance.”

With that, Phil turned and exited the house.

At first, he was antsy when he realized Tony could’ve taken the car.  But then he remembered that his keys were still in his pocket and scrubbed his face in relief.   _Come on, Coulson, get it together._

“Tony?” he called out.  No answer.

He headed around the side of the house, but there was nobody, just hard packed ground.   _Dammit…_

And that’s when he heard the thumps, like someone’s fists hitting the frozen dirt.

“Tony?”

The pounding stopped abruptly and there were some shuffling noises, but Phil rounded the corner to the back of the house, where the field was, before Tony could run.

Sure enough, the teen was standing up, looking like a scared little rabbit, with a red nose and red eyes.  The boy snarled when he saw Phil.  “Fuck off!”  Phil tried to pretend like he couldn’t hear the way Tony’s voice broke at the end.

“Hey, I’m not here to be a dick to you,” Phil said softly, and Tony paused a little in his step, turning fully around to face the other man.

“What do you want?” Tony muttered, folding his arms and leaning against the side of the house.  Even with his red eyes, he still tightened his jaw and lifted his chin in fake confidence.

“I don’t want anything,” Phil said, voice still patient and low.  “But it’s cold outside, and I was wondering if you wanted to come back in where it’s warm.”

Tony cocked his head and chuckled a little.  “Yeah, sure, back to where everyone hates me.”

“They don’t hate you,” Phil said, “they only resent the fact that you may have…”  There was a pause.  “Grown up with more resources than them.”

“Oh, _yeah,”_ Tony said with a bitter half-smile.  “Me, the privileged one.   _Right._ The baby who was fed with a golden spoon right up until his parents smashed into a tree.  Right.”

“We don’t know you very well,” Phil said, then added, “I’m not trying to defend them.”

“Sure,” Tony said, the red in his eyes and nose finally faded from a crying-red to a cold-red.  “Sure you aren’t trying to defend them.  And how the fuck are you supposed to know me, I’ve only been here a few minutes, and I certainly won’t be here any longer than a couple of days.”

“That’s not true,” Phil said.  “And I can tell you’re a good guy, Tony.  You wouldn’t let that stop you even if I _did_ send you away.”

Tony averted his eyes.  “I’m not a fucking baby,” he said quietly.  “And just because I’m rich doesn’t mean…doesn’t mean…”

“I know,” Phil said.  “Life isn’t easy, and sometimes it’s even harder for people like you because everyone thinks that money is everything.”

Tony finally lifted his head.  “This never happened,” he said roughly.  “But I don’t want to freeze to death, even if it gets me out of here, so I’m going back inside.”

“I think I’ll join you,” Phil said gently, and they both made their way back around the house.  This time, Tony’s shoulders weren’t trembling as hard, even in the bitter cold.

\---

Dinner was silent.  And awkward.  Clint sat stone-faced next to Natasha, and Natasha was glaring at Tony the entire time.  As for Thor, well, all he did was focus on the food.  Bruce was a lot more twitchy than usual, kept looking at Tony nervously as if the other teen was going to blow up the house any second.  Steve was staring hard at the tablecloth as if it had somehow disappointed him in unforgivable ways.  

Phil sighed and took a bite of his pasta--apparently Tony liked any kind of Italian.  (Stuffed gnocchi covered in marinara was good enough, right?)  How were they going to make it through the rest of the night, not to mention the long time they had before they all turned eighteen--excluding Thor--if nobody wanted to talk to Tony?  And if Tony didn’t want to talk to anybody else?

Phil tongued the inside of his cheek.  Tony was difficult, but nothing he couldn’t handle.  The boy was just too scared to show any weakness, although he suspected Tony had been tearing up outside the house earlier.  Phil knew though that with the other kids he’d gotten off easy.  And besides, Tony was his first adoptee that he hadn’t outright _chose._ Maybe...maybe they would never get along.   _No,_ Phil told himself sternly.   _You’re going to just keep trying and trying till you get this right.  Tony’s only been here for an hour, you can’t judge a person based off of barely any time.  You of all people should know that, Coulson._

“You like the food?” Phil said, smiling warmly at the Stark child.  He’d seen a slip of the real boy behind the house, and was determined to bring that out again.

Tony shrugged.  “Better than the shit I make,” he said finally, but Phil didn’t miss the way the kid shoveled the gnocchi into his mouth with a fierce hunger.

“I’m glad you seem to be enjoying it.”

“I love it,” Steve said all of a sudden, his voice bright but his eyes still hard.  “Thanks, Phil.”

Phil smiled at Steve even though he suspected the other teen was not as cheerful as he was pretending to be.  He took the compliments where he could get it.

“So, Tony,” he said conversationally, “Tell us a bit about yourself.”  Phil wasn’t stupid; he knew how uncomfortable he was making everything feel--even more so than the previous awkward silence.  But for all the things that he was, he was _not_ someone who gave up.

Tony raised his eyebrows and laughed harshly.  “There’s nothing to know about me.”

“All the same, I’d like to hear it,” Steve interrupted, giving Tony a tense smile.  “We’d all like to hear it.”

Clint snorted.

Tony smirked and lifted his chin.  “Okay, well, to sum it all up neatly, I’m an orphan, son of a dead billionaire, sort of famous, also a genius, andddd...I bat for both teams.”  He batted his eyes.  “Present company _not_ excluded.”  Tony waved a hand at Clint.  “You might be a bit of a problem because I like to be the dominant one in bed, but I think I’d do nicely with _you.”_ Here the finger pointed at Natasha.

Natasha, as she was wont to do, shot up and hissed.  “I know fifty different ways to cut your testicles from your body,” she said stiffly, twirling a dinner knife in her fingers.  “Don’t think I wouldn’t do it.”

Tony smiled.  “Violent, too.”  He glanced at Phil.  “Can I have her when you’re done?”

“What are you trying to say?” Steve said coldly.  “Do you think that Phil is trying to use her?”

“Oh, not _trying,”_ Tony said nastily.  “Did I say that?  I meant, _is_ using her.”

Bruce hunched in on himself and the air grew cold in the dining room, as cold as Thor’s eyes.  For some reason, the Norwegian teen had that effect on atmosphere.

“That’s it.”  Phil sent his chair back with an ugly screech, and grabbed Tony’s shirt.  “Up.  Now.”

“It’s hard to get _up_ when he’s so short,” Clint muttered.

Tony winked at Clint even as Phil dragged him away.  “I may be short in height, but I could show you some other things that aren’t so small.”

“That’s _enough!”_ Phil hauled the boy bodily outside and shoved him against the wall, albeit with not as much strength as he had.  “I took you into my home, but within two hours of being here, you’ve already managed to scare or piss off my _entire_ household, myself included.”  He shook Tony.  That jab at Natasha had been the last straw--he could barely even believe that someone could say something so awful.  “Give me _one_ good reason why I shouldn’t just take you back to the agency right now.  You can spend your time in an orphanage instead.”

Tony grinned, baring his teeth.  “Better company, at least.”

“Stop it.”  Phil let go of Tony, tamping his anger down.  Physically cowing children wasn’t his thing, no matter what.  “Stop doing that.  I know you know how orphanages fuck people up.  I know you’d rather stay here.”

Tony shrugged.  “Well, the bandwagon hasn’t exactly been welcoming,” he said.  “So it’s not like I _could_ stay here anyway.”

“Because you’re attacking them!”  Phil scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed.  “I’m really considering taking you back, and I know you’re having a tough time, but I can’t have this kind of thing in my house.  I have my other kids to watch out for, too.”

He watched as the boy’s face shifted slowly through a various array of expressions, all indecipherable ones that he couldn’t figure out.  Finally, Tony looked like he had come to a decision, his face a mixture of resigned and determined and...dread?

Phil’s mind blanked and came to a stop when he felt fingers cupping his jeans, lightly encircling the lump in the fabric.

Tony came closer, looked up at Phil with impossibly large brown eyes, and parted his lips seductively.

Phil snapped to reality and immediately jumped back, the haze clearing from his head.  “What the _fuck_ are you doing?” he shouted, and Clint’s head popped out of the doorway.

“Phil,” he said, unsure, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing.  Go back inside _now,_ Clint.”  Phil turned to Tony again.  The teen had flattened himself against the wall and now looked frightened, but most of all, confused.

“Sorry, I assumed you were...gay, or bi,” Tony said slowly, swallowing hard.  “I don’t know why, you just came off as…”

“You know what you just did is sexual harassment, right?” Phil snapped.  “And you’re...you’re a _minor._ I’m, God, I’m almost _forty.”_

“Well, yeah, but usually people don’t seem to mind,” Tony mumbled.  “And you have Steve, and Clint, and those other two guys, so I thought you liked males?”

Phil coughed.  “I’m sorry,” he said, “you think I’m engaging in _sexual relations_ with my _children?”_

Tony furrowed his brow.  “Why else would a man living alone want a bunch of good looking teenagers in his house?”

“I got most of them when they were still _ten_ and _eleven.”_ Phil’s anger was slowly fading to something like horror.  What kind of things had Tony gone through to make him think that, that adults only wanted him for... _sex?_

Tony still looked confused.  “Were they uglier when they were younger, then?  What’s your point?  You’re still kicking me out anyway.”

“No.  I’m not kicking you out.”  Phil breathed in slowly.  “I just want to know...are you okay, Tony?”

“Always,” the boy said, as if it was something that he’d never been asked before, but also should have been blatantly obvious.  “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”  Phil shook his head.  He wasn’t going to push it.  “But if you’re going to stay here, I think you should see a therapist.”

Tony narrowed his eyes and pushed himself away from the wall.  “I don’t need a _therapist,”_ he snarled.  “What, you think I’m crazy or something?”

“No,” Phil said patiently, “but everyone who lives here, including me, refers to him.  His name is Yinsen.”

Tony chuckled.  “People who make money just by asking ‘troubled people’ how they feel and pretending they care aren’t really my thing.”

“Yinsen is a very kind man,” Phil said, then stepped back.  “Okay, let me tell you something.  I used to be in the FBI, but I left after a bomb blew me up and almost killed me.  Luckily I was in a car, but my partner died.  Underneath my pants?  Metal legs.  That’s why I walk with a limp sometimes.  Legs got blew off completely.  I only have five inches of thigh left.”  Tony looked like he was going to be sick, but Phil continued.  “I wanted to die for a long time.  My friend--the man with the eyepatch who brought you up to me--he caught me in the bathroom with a gun to my head.  It wasn’t the first time.  I slit my wrists and nearly bled out a month later.  They forced me in a hospital to recover, but I only got worse.  My wife?  She got cancer and died while I was in hospital, and I couldn’t visit her for longer than half an hour a week because I was still under suicide watch at the time.  It was horrible.  Until I met Yinsen.”

The air was silent now, Tony’s dark eyes focused solely on Phil’s.  “I used to think like you.  Therapists were stupid.  I’d been referred to them before.  But when I met Yinsen, he was different.  He helped.  I don’t know what it was about him--he wasn’t that different from the other ones, besides how he talked because when he talks to you, you know he actually cares.”  He finally broke eye contact with the younger person.  “I’m not trying to _ruin_ your life, Tony.  I don’t get how you feel because we’ve had very different lives.  But I can understand some of what you’re going through, despite your very bare file.  I figure with your genius you managed to delete a lot from the database.  And there are things that I’m sure you’re keeping inside.”

Tony smirked, but it was weak and the curve of his lips was a little more genuine than before.  “Wow, two deep talks in one day.  And I’ve only just met you.  This place is full of first times.”

Phil shook his head.  “I still expect you to apologize to the rest of the boys and Natasha,” he said, but his voice lacked the fire it had had earlier.  It felt like forever ago since he’d yelled at Tony and Clint had come out.

“Yeah, yeah.”  Tony rolled his eyes, but then turned seriously to Phil.  “Thanks.  I’m not going to try to make it easier for you, but, uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Phil replied easily as they re-entered the house.  Hopefully, this new understanding between the two would help Tony accept his new...family?, and realize that nobody was there to attack.

  
  
  


 

:P

 

 

 

 


	2. help in understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more of a filler chapter...but anyhow tony smokes and helps clint fix his game boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i just reread the first chap to refresh myself on the story and i'm too lazy to re-write it...but wow it's so terrible the plot is like akfjdlamcd and it literally takes two seconds for clint to jump on tony and jfakfangah  
> \- i hope this chapter is better and that you're enjoying the fic anyway despite its flaws?? XD

 

_ our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. in our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. _

 

  * __carl sagan__



 

 

tWO

Tony perched on the edge of his windowsill, gazing contemplatively at the expanse of dull ground and dark evergreens stretching out in front of him.  If he blew the smoke from his cigarette in front of his face, it almost looked as if fog were covering the trees.  It was cool outside, but the weather was just a fluke - after all, it was June and the start of summer, so it should definitely be warming up soon.  

Tony tilted his head back so that it was resting against the frame, dangling his legs off the edge.  If he fell, quietly, no screams, would anyone notice he was gone?  It had been maybe three weeks, or almost three at least, since he'd shown up in all his "poor little rich boy" glory and had immediately proceeded to piss off every single inhabitant in the house.  He didn't think the other teens - or their "dad" - would mind.  Hell, they'd probably be relieved.  

So far Coulson had only managed to drag him to one therapy session, and even that hadn't gone so well.  Yinsen was a kind guy, no doubt, and Tony liked him instantly, but he made sure to stay moody and quiet.  He never understood this kind of thing -  _ "this"  _ being spilling your deepest, darkest secrets and emotions to a stranger who would just try to analyze you for money.  Maybe Yinsen was a better person than most, but then, that didn't mean much.  Tony didn't really know anybody who had been nice to him for the sake of being nice and he wasn't about to start trusting people now.

For a brief second, he wondered if everyone in the house had forgotten him.  He was still forced to sit at the table for meals, of course - Phil was always preaching about "eating like a family", which made no sense because Tony never ate a single thing with his parents besides at banquets - but other than that he had mostly withdrawn.  Every day, he slipped into his bedroom and all but stayed there until Coulson called everyone down for breakfast, lunch or dinner.  

_ It's better this way,  _ he told himself.   _ Then I won't feel so bad when Phil finally decides he's had enough of me.   _ All he needed was a cigarette, maybe a joint occasionally even though he liked to keep his mind sharp, for company.  Humans fucking sucked.  At least he could rely on his Marlboros to keep his lungs warm.

Finally, the still chilly air grew to be too much for him and he swung back inside, grinding out the cigarette on the side of the wall and flicking it out the window.  Closing the shutters, Tony grimaced from the stale aftertaste inside his mouth.  Maybe it was time to watch some TV.  His second therapy session wasn't till tomorrow, so it wasn't like he had anything better to do anyway.

***   
_ Great,  _ Clint thought with a roll of his eyes.  He sighed and glared angrily at the Game Boy in his hand.  It used to be his brother's old video game device, and he couldn't bear to part with it even though it was probably ten years old.  But now it wouldn't even turn on, and the battery was  _ fine,  _ so he didn't know what was wrong with it.

"Goddammit," he muttered to himself amidst the blaring of the television.  There was a boxing match on, and he could hear the shouts of the crowd as someone got slugged out of the corner of his eye.  He shook the Game Boy.  Smacked it against his knee.  Nothing.

Suddenly, he noticed a movement and turned his head to see Stark of all people walking into the room.  Even more lovely - the asshole who was living with him and his siblings was here, probably only to laugh at Clint's misery.  He had barely even seen Tony at all these past couple of weeks, and of course today was the day the guy finally decided to emerge from his hiding spot.

Stark took a seat on the couch all the way at the far right end, which was a safe enough distance away.  The teen watched the match on the screen with what looked like interest, but Clint could see the tense lines of the other boy's shoulders and knew he probably hadn't expected to see anyone else here today.  

Finally, Stark exhaled and turned to regard Clint with what seemed to be an air of superiority.  "What's wrong with that?" he said, nodding at the device in the other teenager's hand.

"None of your business," Clint said coldly, stuffing the Game Boy between the couch cushions.  However, Stark continued to eye the place where the device had disappeared, frowning.   _ "What?"  _ he finally snapped.

Stark made a face, as if he were thinking hard about something.  "Is it broken?"

"Why do you care?" the lighter-haired of the two retorted.  Why was Stark interrogating him like that?  What, was he going to bash Clint even  _ more  _ for having an attachment to such an old piece of tech?

"I…"  Stark suddenly looked a little hesitant.  "I could fix it, you know.  It's what I do.  Even though I don't know why you'd want such a shit piece of junk anyway."

"Fuck you," Clint snarled.  "And I honestly doubt you'd be able to.  We all know you can't even operate a dishwasher."  It was true.  The first time Coulson had asked Tony to load it up and get it going, the teen had obviously had no idea what he was doing.  Understandable, really - with so many maids waiting on your every need, why would you learn how to do that by yourself?

"Fine," Stark said with a careless shrug.  "Doesn't matter to me anyway.  You just sit there and stare at the blank screen and count your ABC's, okay?"

After a moment, Clint dug the Game Boy up and threw it disgustedly at the other boy, who fumbled to catch it.  "Whatever.  It's gone anyway.  Do whatever you want to it, I don't care."  He grabbed the remote and logged onto Netflix so that he could watch  _ How I Met Your Mother.   _ "I really don't give a shit, Stark."

The dark haired teen sat staring at the Game Boy for a while, just turning it over and over in his hands.  Then he got up, leaving the device on the couch.   _ Thank fuck,  _ Clint thought darkly in his mind.  Maybe now he could be alone to nab some peace and quiet.  

A few minutes later, Tony returned with a little box swinging from his fingertips.  It was an old metal case marred with burns and scrapes.  Clint eyed it suspiciously, then decided it didn't matter.  It wasn't like he hadn't given the Game Boy away anyhow.  It still kind of hurt though when Tony suddenly ripped the backside off and many more delicate looking pieces came out.  He deliberately turned back to the TV just in time to catch Robin, dark haired and pretty as ever, roll her eyes at Barney (coincidence, huh).

However, as the clock in Clint's mind ticked on, he glanced back at Tony only to realize his metal case was now open and he was carefully fiddling with the wires inside the video game device.  He frowned.  Maybe Stark  _ was  _ trying to fix it after all.  So the rich boy knew some useful skills.  Good to know.

Finally, Stark grinned and thrust the Game Boy forward.  It looked just like before, except now when the teen hit the power button it lit up immediately.  Clint narrowed his eyes, snatching it from Tony's grip.  He played with it for a few moments, just to check that it was working properly again.  Not only had Stark fixed it, but he'd somehow made it  _ better.   _ The pixels were blurry as ever but the buttons were now working smoothly and there were no more of the glitches Clint was so used to.  "What the fuck exactly did you to do?" he said, now more curious instead of wary.

Unfortunately, Tony took Clint's rather loud and incredulous tone to mean anger and he huddled in a little on himself.  The archer caught a flash of hurt on Tony's face before the other boy straightened and plastered an irritating smirk on.  "You said I could do whatever I wanted.  What, too advanced for you?"

Clint was going to snap something about stupid rich assholes again but refrained when he remembered that even though he didn't like Stark, it didn't necessarily mean he didn't know how to say thank you.  "It's fine," he said after a beat.  That was the nicest phrase he could muster right now.

Tony looked satisfied now.  "Told you I could fix it."  Then the teen started packing his miniscule tools back into his metal box.  

However, right as the darker haired of the two was about to exit, Clint called, "Wait!"  Tony turned, obviously expecting some more criticism.  But instead, the other boy grumbled, "Thanks, Stark."

Tony's eyebrows popped up in surprise.  It was like he'd never been thanked before.  Clint felt kind of guilty now - sure, the guy needed some lessons in how to be a nice person, but...he did just lose his parents.  Maybe he was - maybe they  _ all  _ were - being too hard on him.  Maybe he just needed another chance.  

"No problem," Tony said a little hesitantly, then grinned at the floor.  "Also, Hawkeye is a stupid username.  I'd name myself Iron Man."

"Fuck off," Clint said, but this time there was much less heat behind his words.   "Actually, you know what, come over here.  I'll show you how good  _ 'Hawkeye'  _ is.  I don't need a dumb name like 'Iron Man' to play like a pro."

Tony settled next to Clint on the couch as the other boy began to play on the Game Boy.  "You'll be sorry you said that when I'm done," Clint added as he turned complete concentration on the device in his hand.  Because he was now engrossed in what was happening on the screen, he didn't see the little relieved light in Tony's eyes - as if the young billionaire's son wasn't as upset to be hanging out with the other kids in the house as he pretended.  

 

Unbeknownst to the two, Phil Coulson had rounded the corner a minute before and had stopped at one of the entrances to the living room when he heard Clint blurt out, "Fuck off."  Worried, he'd peered in, noting how Tony was standing frozen at the other doorway across the room.  Expecting a fight, Phil was all ready to intervene, except surprisingly Clint beckoned Stark to the couch and now they were both seated next to each other in concentration.  Although he could see the wariness in both boys' postures, they didn't seem as averse to each other as before.  

Coulson smiled softly.  He knew how hard it was for the newly orphaned teenager to adjust to all these unfamiliar faces and personalities.  It took a long time for people to recover from the death of a loved one, and Tony had only had, what, a month and a half?  Also, the incident from three weeks earlier still hadn't escaped his mind - Stark palming his dick through his jeans, expecting Phil to...expecting Phil to…  Coulson wasn't exactly sure, and he didn't want to think about it either.  But there was obviously something wrong.  Perhaps Tony would open up to Yinsen; then they could figure out what exactly went on in Stark's head and help him warm up to the rest of the family.  

Reassured that the two wouldn't start suddenly beating each other up, Coulson left the doorway with quiet footsteps.  He took a sip of the coffee in his hand musingly.  Perhaps there was hope after all.  Of course, he knew that within a day or so Clint and Stark would be back at each other's throats - this was just a moment of slight reprieve.  But despite the troubles he knew the boy was having, despite the animosity within the house, maybe he had been right all along - even though Tony lived here already...maybe the teen could eventually learn to make this his  _ home  _ here too.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chap, we learn a lil bit about tony's mysterious past w a yinsen sesh ! as you've probably already figured, it's not all silver spoons and happiness. in fact, chapter 3 might get a little dark...


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